“Ashley, if I told you everything I had been thinking about since I stepped through the door till now, you wouldn’t believe me.”
Even as I have finished the last word in the sentence, my mind has made its one-thousandth revolution. Already it threatens to topple over. Like one of Yeats’ ever widening gyres, I can’t stop learning. I practice the same repetitions, the same exercises, without break: open the book, extract information, apply it to life, while also paying the price for wisdom, knowledge, and secrets. My muscles have atrophied like flatulating balloons. I eat less. I’ve grown weak. My vision has blurred, too.